


The Sunspot

by AbsurditiesAbound



Series: Burn [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Love, Flashbacks, Jealousy, KageHina - Freeform, Kageyama Tobio-centric, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 19:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13642965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsurditiesAbound/pseuds/AbsurditiesAbound
Summary: Kageyama thinks they are okay, the way they are.He isn't pining. Not at all.





	The Sunspot

**Author's Note:**

> First kagehina fic ever! Love these two. What if canonverse made them happen? How would Kageyama fall for Hinata? And that's how this was born. Enjoy!

The first time they meet, Hinata is small, loud and a waste of talent.

He runs off his mouth the way he runs his legs across the court, for miles and in the space of a breath. Shrinking in the face of those taller than him, yet jumping with hands grasping for the sky like no one exists outside of him and the ball.

Kageyama hates him.

He has frightening reflexes, raw athletics, the hunger of a champion – and the skills of a baby learning to walk. It frustrates Kageyama that someone could waste and while away such a natural gift, while he has had to spend half his life training every muscle from the tip of his fingers to the balls of his feet to get where he is today.

He tells the orange headed simpleton as much, in words conveying more negativity than he feels, and receives a tearful declaration of being defeated someday. He takes it the way he takes his team – indolent and wanton, handed out like the cheap effort they take.

Weeks later, in a scrimmaging match, his words betray him and his team deserts him, their farewell legacy a crown on his head and a cape on his shoulders. It is the title he always dreamt of, but there are thorns where there should be velvet, murky grey where there should be the lustre of gold.

Words are cheap, a dime a dozen, but on his tongue, they are spears of poison, ones that draw a line between him and others, and so he stops using them altogether.

………

“Kageyama?”

He turns around to see Hinata trotting towards him through the corridor, lunchbox dangling from one hand, face split in a toothy grin. Kageyama stops sipping from the milk box and starts walking towards the steps built midway between them. Hinata flings himself on the top step and Kageyama takes the one below him.

“I will get done in five!” Hinata is saying in that loud voice of his, arms hastily opening his lunchbox. “Let’s practice the _gwaah_ with the _baaaam_ today! I want to practise hitting diagonally today!”

It says something, Kageyama thinks, that he understands Hinata’s four-year-old speak the way no one else on the team does. He nods his head a little, fixing Hinata with what he hopes is a disdainful look. “It is called a minus one tempo, you idiot.”

Hinata sticks out his tongue at him before hurriedly breaking his chopsticks and stuffing the food in his mouth. Kageyama goes back to slurping from the milk box, occasionally eyeing Hinata to make sure he doesn’t choke himself.

He doesn’t, and finishes his meal in a record four minutes, hurrying Kageyama along and they take positions in the courtyard.

Time flies, as it always does when he plays volleyball with Hinata, and soon the bell is ringing to signal the end of their break. Hinata’s cheeks are flushed red, sweat trailing from the sides of his pale face into a singular drop at his chin and dripping on his shirt.

Kageyama looks away, wiping his own face with his shirt. He sniffs it a little and thinks it is okay, not stinky enough to warrant a change.

“Kageyama! Did I finally get better? I think I did! Did you see how it _whooshed_ and _bwaaaahed_ towards that corner? Did you? Did you?”

The setter bumps him on the head, retreating his hands safely to his sides before they knot themselves in Hinata’s hair. “You still have a long way to go.”

Hinata pouts, palms clutching into fists at his sides. “You are lying! You gave that constipated grin right now when I did that!”

Kageyama only has to glare a little and then Hinata jumps back, grumbling under his breath and walking away from him, towards his class. His limbs are sweaty and pale, white shirt sticking to his small frame. His hair is ruffled, flyways pulling in every direction with the breeze.

The black-haired setter finds himself speaking. “Hinata.”

“Hm?” Hinata turns around, still walking, eyes on Kageyama.

He stares at Hinata, mind honing on the bright amber ring in his eyes. Thinks of all the things he wants to say, imagines Hinata’s many faces he has seen in his dreams and nightmares.

Hinata, still looking back at him, raises an eyebrow just as he walks into the stairs and face-plants onto the floor.

“YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE!”

Kageyama keeps watching as Hinata gets up, groaning a little and brushing his butt. He starts limping up the stairs, rubbing at his cheeks and walking further away from the setter.

He doesn’t correct him – these days Kageyama can no longer find a reason for the things he does around Hinata.

……..

The second time they meet, it is well and truly a tragedy in Kageyama’s eyes. He sees no winner in Hinata, in this little boy who has more noise than skill, and it kills him a little when he imagines babying such a rookie for the next three years.

Hinata follows him around, an annoying cacophony of demands, never giving up. He thinks he might give in, if only to shut up the moron, but the idea incites in him a strange sense of defeat and so he doesn’t.

Till Hinata calls out to him.

The voice is compelling, seeping through his skin into the muscles of his arms and the tips of his fingers, and he finds himself tossing the ball towards the orange head. Hinata brings it down with a satisfying _thump_ and a grin, all teeth and wrinkles.

It makes Kageyama’s heart go _thump_.

Hours later when he is walking back home, Hinata’s voice playing in his head like a broken record, he realises that maybe there is one person who can cross the line, who can take his poison and burn it away to unearth a shared passion.  

……….

They are walking back home, snowflakes falling around them. The team had departed earlier, leaving the two of them alone to get an extra hour of practice in. An hour turned to three, and now it is night as they tread on the slippery road.

Hinata keeps humming a song, and Kageyama tries but fails to reign in his slowly climbing temper. 

“Hinata shut up!”

The short boy startles, abruptly stopping his bicycle and hunching into himself. He blinks before whirling around and glaring indignantly at Kageyama. “W-why should I?”

Kageyama clicks his tongue. “You have been singing the same line again and again. It’s annoying.”

Hinata’s jaw goes slack. “You can barely hear it from where you have been walking!”

Kageyama pursues his lips. He thinks of Hinata’s laboured breaths on the court, heavy and loud; those obnoxious squeals of his on seeing a straight spike; the eight counts of his steps to their quick, no longer with any wasted steps; the consistent chatter of his teeth when they race to the gym in winters; the persistent din of his soft snores at training camps.

It reminds him of how he syncs his breaths to Hinata’s laboured ones, composes himself to the rhythm of Hinata’s steps on the court, falls asleep to the sound of him snoring.

“You are louder than you think.”

Hinata sticks out his tongue, shouts “Just shut your ears if you have such a problem!” and whirls around, resuming humming a little louder than before.

Kageyama walks behind him, shuffling a miniscule of a step closer than before.

It strikes him that for all the sounds he keeps a note of, the sound of Hinata’s heart beats is surprisingly absent.

……….

Hinata grows, with every receive and every spike. His hunger is unending, a void that sucks in everything he lays his eyes on, always on the hunt for more. Hinata is levels below him, the 0 to his 100, but his learning curve keeps Kageyama up at nights and on his toes in practice. He learns to read Hinata, his face and his body, in a way he never before tried with his teammates.

He finds in Hinata a greedy partner, someone who expects nothing but the best from him. It feels strange, being on the receiving end of punishing expectations, and it fills him with a fever that won’t die. He pushes Hinata and Hinata pushes back just as hard, both trying to grow twenty more for the other’s ten.

Kageyama doesn’t tell him that he feels somewhere along the way, their growing vines seem to have entwined in each other’s, curling together into an invincible force. Hinata becomes his comfort toss when they are cornered in matches, and his stress buster when he’s had an overwhelming day. He becomes Kageyama’s competition in everything, from drinking milk to racing to the gym, and his foil in moments of hysterical temper tantrums.

He doesn’t reject Kageyama. He takes all Kageyama gives him and demands more, driving their limits further and further.

There is a premonition lingering on the edges of his subconscious, but Kageyama can’t find it in himself to care.

It’s been years since he last looked forward to playing volleyball – not alone, but _with_ someone.

……..

They find a red envelope in Hinata’s locker in spring, right before practice.

“Shouyou! You are finally a man!” Nishinoya says, laughing and clapping Hinata on the back. Hinata stumbles a little with the force of the pat, cheeks red and eyes wide. “M-man?”

“My junior got a love letter before me!” Tanaka exclaims, shaking his head. “I am a better coach than playboy, it seems.”

Hinata gets increasingly flustered, his limbs flailing and eyes squinting strangely. Asahi smiles, Sugawara ruffles his hair, Daichi ushers them all to practice. Kageyama stays silent, tries to focus on the spikers’ forms and team rotations.

He practices more tosses with Tanaka and Asahi, trying to align their timing with his. He has been too focused on one spiker, and that is never a good thing.

After practice, Hinata finds him and bumps shoulders. “We are practicing the super duper quick, right?”

Kageyama looks down, at the smaller hands clutching his shirt. He has often imagined them enveloped in larger, calloused hands; but when he thinks of today morning, he sees them holding smaller, slender hands in their warm grip.

His gaze moves to Hinata’s, whose tiny nose is scrunched, eyes wide and shining, freckles more pronounced, pale pink lips pursed together.

Someone, he thinks, will look at Hinata, discover the tiny smile he gives in fleeting moments, be mesmerised by the flecks of light that dance in his eyes when he is happy, give into the temptation of kissing the pout his lips shape into when he is angry, fall in love with the sheen of water in his eyes and the snot running down his nose when he is crying his heart out.

His slaps away Hinata’s hand. “Of course, dumbass.”

Someone else, who is less of a coward, will probably also try to make Hinata love them back.

……..

Since the time with Kitagawa, Kageyama keeps trying to take off the crown and the cape. He throws it away, but it haunts him, chasing him in the corridors of preliminary matches, in the glances of strangers at training camps, in the words of his own teammates.

He tells himself he isn’t a King, that he no longer ignores his comrades, but it catches up to him in an unexpected moment during their practice match, and –

And the damage is done. He can see it in Tanaka’s angry eyes, in Asahi’s bodily withdrawal, in Tsukkishima’s disdainful scorn. He doesn’t even want to know what kind of a face the rest of them are making, how his poison has sizzled into a frontier between him and the rest of them.

“What’s the big deal about being a King? If I don’t agree with Kageyama, I just tune him out!”

And just like that, Hinata places the crown on his head. _You will always be a king bastard_ , he says, eyes laughing as he jumps back.

It is heavy, but it shines as bright as Hinata does when he jumps, illuminating and uplifting.

There is a lump in his throat, and he vaguely hears Hinata drone about wanting a cool nickname, hopefully being a king of something someday.

 _You already are_ , Kageyama thinks, pressing the volleyball to his chest, over his heart.

He doesn’t say it out loud. Doesn’t see the point in doing so – Hinata accepts him, in all his prickliness and ingenious, and that is good enough for him.

…….

He stays a little absent-minded, zoning out even as a girl in his class asks for his help with volleyball. They have exchanged greetings occasionally, and she sits ahead of him, but never have they had a conversation. She wants to know more about setters, about their struggles and hardships.

Kageyama doesn’t understand why she wants to know, and she probably reads it in his face, for she clarifies it is for a boy she likes – he is a setter in a lesser known school, has been a little distant, which she thinks is on account of intense practices – and she wants to understand him a little better, be a part of his world.

He understands a little about that, so he agrees, and they sit opposite each other in class, all through the free period and lunch break, Kageyama going into technical details and the girl hurriedly scribbling it down. Hinata shows up in between, starts ranting about practice, but Kageyama sends him away. They can practice a little longer after school today, and he doesn’t see a reason to prolong his interactions with the girl over a day longer. Hinata leaves, face scrunched in a scowl, surprisingly absent of protests.

“Is he your teammate?” his classmate asks.

He shrugs. “He plays the middle blocker.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Isn’t middle blocking meant for taller people?”

Kageyama looks at her, sees the faces of all their opponents gaping at Hinata after he soared over their heads.

It has been a while since he has seen that expression, and so he invites her to practice. She stammers, asks if it is okay, so he tells he will ask his seniors and let her know.

His seniors are beyond ecstatic, Tanaka and Nishinoya the loudest of them all.

“Our juniors are hitting it off with women, Ryuu!”

Kageyama ignores them, changes and calls out to the classmate, introducing her to Yachi. They settle into position, and Kageyama begins, showing off all their moves, making Hinata race and fly across the court. He looks over to his classmate’s face occasionally, feeling a familiar heat settle in his bones on seeing her slackened jaw and wide eyes.

After practice when he is leaving, she thanks him, and after some thought, hesitantly pulls him aside.

“Today was the first time I saw you smile, Kageyama. It isn’t bad to do it every once a while!”

She waves and patters off, and he stays standing there. It surprises Kageyama, to have been the object of someone’s observation, and even more that he smiled, because he has no memory of it.

Someone runs into him, and he flails a little before balancing himself and the person stuck to his chest.

It is Hinata.

His eyebrows are furrowed, mouth curved in unhappiness. Kageyama would yell at him and shove him away, but Hinata starts speaking before he has the chance to. “You are an idiot, Kageyama! A big, giant, massive idiot! And not a volleyball idiot!”

Kageyama blinks at him, and suddenly he is angry. He shoves Hinata, brushing his clothes. Why is Hinata yelling at him? “What the hell? You are the idiot! Who runs into people?”

Hinata scrunches his nose as if he has smelled something bad, and heavily brushes past Kageyama as he walks ahead. “You suck! Suck suck suck!”

Kageyama stomps behind him. “What is your problem?”

Hinata grumbles something, and Kageyama has had enough, so he grasps Hinata’s shoulders and whirls him around. “Talk to my face, you idiot!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a volleyball idiot?” Hinata yells in his face, eyes wide and red.

Kageyama blinks at him. “That… what? Of course, I love volleyball, if that is what you meant. You better have meant that.”

“Do you love it more than anything else?”

“Yes!”

“Is it the most important thing in your life?”

“Yes. Wait,” Kageyama interrupts. “What is this questioning? Who are _you_ to question my love for volleyball?”

“Your teammate, your partner!” Hinata retorts, face pink and voice firm.

“Well then you should know it already dumbass!”

“Whatever!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Kageyama doesn’t understand what happened, but Hinata keeps looking over at him shiftily for the rest of the way.

A monstrous yawn works its way up and he decides he doesn’t care. There are more pressing matters to attend to.

…….

He dreams of standing in the court.

It is a massive stadium, an audience loudly crowing in the stands, the Japan flag waving behind him. The ball is in his hands, its weight comforting and familiar. He sees faceless boys ahead him, wearing the same uniform as him, their body turned towards him, waiting for him to serve. He takes in a deep breath, brings the volleyball to his forehead, and imagines the arc of the ball over to the other side, hitting the floor uninterrupted.

He opens his eyes, throws the ball, jumps and smacks it hard, watching as it flies over the net.

But suddenly the net disappears, and the ball bounces off a pair of outstretched hands. Hinata looks back at him from the other side of the court, grinning. “Where do you think you are throwing, Kageyama? We are here!”

Kageyama’s feet carry him to Hinata before he can think, and all faces disappear. He comes to stand before Hinata, and Hinata-

Hinata hops to his side, bumping shoulders and looking ahead. “Let’s go.”

The dream ends and Kageyama wakes up, heart in his throat, a burning behind his eyes.

…….

Next day at lunch, the classmate presents him a lunchbox. “For all your help yesterday!” she says, and Kageyama is no one to refuse free food. He thanks her, and makes his way to the courtyard for practice.

Hinata is there, swinging his arms in mock spikes, and on seeing Kageyama he sits back on the stairs. Kageyama takes the one below him, opens the lunchbox, and immediately gets assaulted with questions.

“You are carrying a lunchbox? What happened to curry bread and milk? Finally decided to go healthy?”

He carefully places the lunchbox beside him, turns around, and smacks Hinata’s head. Hinata grumbles a loud “OW!” while Kageyama turns back, sagely picking up the lunchbox and studying its contents. “I got it from a classmate.”

It is a quiet for a few moments, and Kageyama ruffles around the box, warily picking a rice ball and tasting it. His classmate has some impressive skills, and he momentarily envies her boyfriend.

“The girl from yesterday?”

Kageyama nods his head, mouth stuffed. He is surprised Hinata remembers, for yesterday Hinata had not so much as looked in her direction. It had been odd, for someone as friendly as Hinata to not even greet her. Kageyama had put it down to Hinata’s nervousness around members of the fairer sex.

“Why?”

The setter swallows, finally looking at Hinata. “What?”

“Why did she give you this?” Hinata is asking, his eyebrows furrowed and lips shaped in a grimace. His lunchbox lies in his lap, untouched and forgotten. Now when he is looking, Kageyama notices that the tiny boy’s palms are curved into fists by his side, and his body is trembling slightly.

Something is off.

“Hey,” Kageyama puts aside the lunchbox, shutting the lid. “What’s wrong, dumbass? At this speed, we won’t get any practice done.”

“Didn’t you say volleyball was the most important thing to you, Kageyama?” Hinata responds instead, angry eyes fixed on him.

 _Not this again_ , the black-haired freshman thinks. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You skipped practice yesterday to talk to that girl, then you brought her to club practice, and today you are eating lunch prepared by her!” Hinata cries out, standing up and flailing his arms. His body towers over Kageyama. “I thought you had no interest in anything other than volleyball?!”

Kageyama blinks. Anger surges through him, the indignance at being told off by someone like Hinata, when he notices an uncanny sheen in Hinata’s eyes.

All fight goes out of him at once. “Hey. What are you talking about?”

Hinata blinks several times, hastily wiping his eyes. “I thought you weren’t interested in girls! You have never looked at them before, and now all of a sudden you are showing up everywhere with one! I cannot-”

“She is my classmate, idiot,” Kageyama interrupts, studying Hinata’s face. “She has a boyfriend who is a setter in another school. She wanted to know more about volleyball so she could support him.”

Hinata opens his mouth, as though ready to protest, before abruptly shutting it. “Sh-she has a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“So you and her don’t have anything-”

“Obviously not, stupid.”

Hinata blinks once, twice and then crumbles to his knees, releasing a sigh and covering his face with his hands. “What-what the hell! I thought for sure you were together!!”

Kageyama looks back at the lunchbox. He is not stupid, nor does he jump to conclusions, but right now his heart is caving in his chest. “I don’t want to hear that from someone with a love letter.”

Hinata gasps. “That was a prank!”

Everything stops. “What?”

Hinata huffs, crossing his arms. “My friends played that prank, because I complained about being unpopular. They are so mean, would you-”

“Why were you so upset about me dating someone else?” Kageyama interrupts.

Hinata’s eyes widen, lips fumbling. “T-that was – you are supposed to love volleyball the most!”

“In that case, so are you.”

“I do!”

Kageyama pockets his palms. They are beginning to get sweaty. “So, you can’t date anyone either, right?”

Hinata blinks and cocks his head. “I guess not…. My head is filled with volleyball anyway!”

“What if it is someone whose head is filled with volleyball, just like you?”

“I guess… but we wouldn’t be able to spend time together! We both will be busy practicing with our teams!”

“What if that person plays on the same team?”

Hinata stares at him, and Kageyama wants the ground to swallow him. _This is Hinata, dammit_ , he thinks, _why the hell do I have to be nervous around him._ So he raises his head and looks Hinata in the eye, concentrating hard on every twitch of his face.

Hinata bursts out laughing.

Kageyama feels his heart sink. This is it, Hinata has finally rejected him, in the cruellest way possible. He feels rage overcome him. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-”

“That depends,” Hinata interrupts, grinning and shifting closer to Kageyama, leaning into his space. He is seated a step above Kageyama, which puts them eye to eye. “Can they toss to me?”

Kageyama exhales a soft ‘yes’. He can feel his heart pick pace.

“Do they promise to not take big bites out of my meat bun?”

Kageyama is in another space, an alternate reality where this conversation is real, and not a manifestation of his desires. “They can cut it down, maybe.”

“Mm.” The flecks in Hinata’s eyes dance, and he taps his chin. “Do they promise to cut down the insults?”

“This and that are different things, dumbass.”

Hinata pouts in his face, punching Kageyama’s shoulder. “Gaaah, I thought I could get away with this!”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow, eyeing Hinata’s fist. Hinata hastily withdraws it. “Then,” he continues, “Do they promise to not be so dumb and slow and take the long route to things like a moron?”

Kageyama blinks, and then he scowls, ready to slug Hinata, but Hinata jumps on him, arms snaking around his neck, snuggling his face into Kageyama’s shoulder. “You are an idiot,” he says, wheezing loudly, body shaking with laughter. Kageyama feels the tremors of his tiny body, snugly settled against his. He hesitates, before bringing his arms around, encasing Hinata in his embrace.

“You are really bony,” he remarks.

“You are really romantic.” Hinata drawls.

Kageyama squeezes tighter, shutting his eyes. He is afraid to open them and see a pillow in his hands, the morning sun reflecting on his blankets.

He does it anyway, because there is only so long you can close your eyes to something.

And when he opens them, there is still a warm weight, clad in a black school uniform, heavy in his arms. He releases the breath he had been holding in, and then breathes in the scent of Hinata’s hair from where it is tickling his nostrils.

He almost snorts. “Bubble gum?”

Hinata pulls back, still nearly seated in Kageyama’s lap, and narrows his eyes at him. “It’s Natsu’s! My shampoo ran out!”

Kageyama feels his heart take flight, the way Hinata does every time he chases the ball, and he breathes out.

Hinata’s eyes widen. “So you can smile outside of matches too, Kageyama!”

He smacks Hinata on the head. Hinata yelps lightly, rubbing his head. “What? It’s true! The only time you smile is when we do our quick and people around get shocked!”

Kageyama can’t help it.

He laughs.

……..

A few weeks later, he finally learns the rhythm of Hinata’s heart beats.

It goes _ribbity-rabbit_ , small and rapid much like its owner.

……..

 

 

  

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on http://the-doe-eyed-girl.tumblr.com/!


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